


a hint of asbestos (and maybe just a dash of formaldehyde)

by entangledbanks (summerhurleys)



Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Polyamory, manhandling in the non-porny sense, sick!Pete, winged!Pete
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 12:21:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1778938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerhurleys/pseuds/entangledbanks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>pete’s sick and not going to bed, cause pete, duh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a hint of asbestos (and maybe just a dash of formaldehyde)

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a peterick fic. Then that fell out and I figured I should start anew (seeing as I had already announced this happening on two websites) and this….came out. Also Brendon came in completely unannounced, not that I mind. pETE HAS WINGS!! I’m still trying to figure out if Pete’s wings would be the color of coffee beans or straight-up black…  
> Also, I wrote this at like 11:00pm, so all awkwardness is completely my fault.

Patrick’s patience with Pete was slowly beginning to wear thin, considering that he had been trying to get the older man to sleep for close to three hours. Pete had continued to refuse, coughing wildly as he tried to watch _Catfish_ while grooming his massive black wings.

Brendon was there, yes; but he had merely been watching his partners’ antics most of the morning, fiddling around the main floor of the home they shared. Patrick could also tell through the occasional looks they exchanged with each other, that Brendon was concerned with his boyfriend just about as much as he was.

Pete sat miserably against the sofa, trying to contain the snot that threatened to come out onto his Clandestine t-shirt. He kept giving Patrick dark looks as if asking him to try and make him go to bed again, and his wings twitched wildly every time he would sneeze.

“Pete, you seriously need to get some sleep. You know it’ll make you feel better.” Patrick says for what’s probably the fifth time that day, and he waits for Pete’s reaction.

“Dude, no,” Pete snorts, definitely not in the best of moods seeing as he was sick. “I’m not trying to fuck up my sleep schedule more than I already am.”

Suddenly, Brendon throws down whatever he had been eating, and almost teleports to where Pete is on the sofa. “Pete, I’m sorry but I’m going to have to carry you to your own bed.” He says in a flat tone as he practically _picks Pete up_ , wings flailing and shocked coughs rumbling through the room.

“’rendon, what the actual _fuck_?” Pete wails, then closing his mouth because _damn_ that hurt his throat.

Patrick follows behind Brendon and Pete as they go upstairs, a small smile on his face. “This is what happens when you don’t follow directions, Pete.” Patrick replies, shaking his head as they all enter their shared bedroom.

Brendon clumsily tosses Pete into the blankets, where the older man struggles to get out of them. But Brendon wasn’t going to let him escape. “Nope, you’re staying there until you absolutely have to, old man!” he chuckles as he tackles him under the blankets, tucking them almost too neatly around him.

Pete inwardly groans and surrenders to Brendon, letting him plant a kiss on his forehead. “Boy, you’re hot. Patrick, you should get him an icepack or something.”

“Well, I _am_ irresistible.” Pete winks lazily at Brendon, who’s now lying in bed beside him.

Patrick laughs to himself as he leaves to get the icepack Brendon requested, leaving the other two to themselves.

“Sometimes I wonder where you’d be without us.” Brendon says randomly, looking thoughtfully up at the ceiling, fingers tapping against his thigh.

“Probably dead, wings sold on black market.” Pete croaks, preferring to keep his eyes closed, though he wished he could look at Brendon and admire his being.

“I would have kept your wings, Pete.” Patrick half-yells as he trudges back upstairs and into the room with a cold towel and an icepack in hand.

“Yeah _right_.”

“You _know_ I would have, hell; even Brendon would’ve probably wanted joint custody.”

Brendon chuckles in agreement as he allows Patrick to carefully get in bed beside him. “The wings are like kids, with the way we take care of them.”

Pete makes a grunt in reply, throat too sore to really get him in the mood to say actual words. He then stretches his wings out over his partners, covering them up with extra-warm feathers that were probably softer than the blankets.

They all soon fell asleep like that, Pete’s sickness temporary forgotten, lovers cuddled up against each other.

_end._

**Author's Note:**

> I'm hoping to expand on this fic and make it a verse, ideas would be great ;)


End file.
